Page 46 of Wired Courage

Chapter Thirty-Four

Day Twenty-Eight

Jake woke to the electronic bleeping of the phone beside his bed as he swam up through the murky layers of the father of all hangovers.

“Shit.” He tossed something off of him—and his eyes widened as that something murmured to him in Thai, stroking his chest and tugging at his hair. Jake sat up and groaned, clutching his head. “Ohshit.”

The slender bronzed arms of one of the hookers he’d met in the bar the night before clutched at him. He looked over.

Ugh.

There weretwoof them. Noting his lack of interest, they turned to each other, kissing and cuddling.

Yeah, that had been a good time.

Self-disgust added to the foul brew in his belly.

He’d taken out his angst on some willing flesh that had no agenda about him but the bottom line—and it had felt great, just like finishing off the bottle of cheap Scotch tipped over on the sideboard.

And now, the party was over.

He squinted at the windows—blackout drapes cast the room into dimness, but bright bars of light around the edges indicated a day well underway.

“Thank you, ladies. Time to go.” Jake made shooing motions. He reached for the phone which had mercifully gone silent—Unknown Number.

“Oh shit. Shit.”It had to be Sophie. McDonald must have given her this number. He should have called her yesterday; he just couldn’t get up the nerve to do what he needed to.

An incoming text dinged as one of the ladies, swaying her hips saucily and dressed in a whole lot of nothing, made her way to the coffeepot in the corner of the room while the other tried to massage his head.

He pushed the woman away. “No, thank you. We’re done here. Cash is by the door.” He’d had the presence of mind to put it there last night, hoping they’d leave before morning.

The text was from McDonald.“Please contact Ms. Smithson. She wants to trade her mother for Hamilton. We can’t help her get him out, but we want Pim Wat—so stall her and keep her from contacting the Master. We’re going to get Pim Wat once we know where she’s being held.”McDonald had helpfully included Sophie’s private number.

“Son of a bitch!” He looked up from the phone and glared. “Why are you still here?”

The women twittered and giggled, but they weren’t leaving. They pointed at the cash, shook their heads. Struck poses, blocking the door with their naked bodies.They wanted more money.

What a mess. Jake grabbed his wallet and pulled out all of the remainingbahtMcDonald had given him. “Ladies, thanks for the good times, but you need to go. I’m going to take a shower, and I want to be alone when I get out.” He thrust the money at the one who’d made the coffee. “That’s all I got.”

Jake took his phone and the empty wallet into the bathroom with him—not that there was anything left to steal—his credit cards and ID were back at Connor’s house on Phi Ni, left there as a precaution and not needed on their jungle mission. He locked the door, groaning again as he fumbled in the toiletry basket for some aspirin.

There was none to be found. Well, a sore head was no more than he deserved. He cursed, turned on the water as hot as it would go, and got into the shower.

Jake scrubbed his skin with a washcloth and soap until he burned from head to toe. Then he turned on the cold and stood under it until he was blue. Tipping his head back to let the water run straight into his mouth, Jake drank as much water as he could hold.

And then, he puked it up.

God, the misery. Almost as bad as being waterboarded to death.

Jake drank more water and repeated his hot/cold/scrubbing.

He had to get their touch off him.

He’d never resorted to hookers in his life before last night.A new personal low.He hated himself for sleeping with them, and yet he wasn’t sorry.

He’d been betrayed. He didn’t owe Sophie anything but a “goodbye, and here’s why.”

So why was he still so totally miserable? Because Sophie wouldn’t know he’d had his cheap revenge with booze and hookers?He could always tell her.After all, it was honesty he was after. He gagged again, but nothing came up.

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